It was the late spring of 1952, a time of year when a young man’s fancy turns. There was a somewhat disinterested young lady on the scene.

One day there was a chance meeting in the neighborhood gas station. Pointing to a broken rudder pin held in my hand, she said, "What is that?" Sailboat part," I responded. "You have a sailboat?" She said. There was little time to explain it wasn’t mine. She and her girlfriend, having gotten the five gallons of gas for which they came, and drove off.

Sensing a spark of interest in this sailboat, I phoned later in the afternoon to inquirer if she would like to go sailing that evening. The response was an enthusiastic "Yes." Up to this point, there had been no discussion as to the size of the boat or its accompanying amenities. That evening I picked her up, went back by my house, put boat and trailer on the back of the car, headed over to the Pelican Harbor launch ramp. "It’s not very big," she pointed out as I started to step the mast which probably weighed no more than 15 pounds, stays and halyard included, "True," I responded. "It’s a Moth. All Moths are 11 feet long," I explained. the boat was quickly rigged, set in the water and at the last moment I threw in a Maxwell House coffee can. "What’s that for?" she inquired. "In case there’s a need to bail, " I responded. I knew full well that there would be an opportunity for bailing for there was a persistent leak around the dagger board well which we had been unable to stop.

The boat’s name, "The Rains Came," was a poor forecast for that evening. It was a very pleasant, brightly moonlit night on Miami’s Biscayne Bay. Light winds propelled the boat nicely without the need for much exertion other than what she recalls as the constant bailing required to keep the boat afloat. It was the first of many dates that spanned a three-year dating period and 37 subsequent years of marriage.

Somewhere along the way, I acquired a Ventnor Moth and a slightly larger sailboat, both of which were sold and faded into history as did "The Rains Came." Boating interests peaked and valleyed and some 35 or more years following the original sailing venture, an interest in the Moth rekindled. a Moth owner’s association was found and through their publication another Moth was located.

To the somewhat nostalgic husband, it seemed an ideal purchase although there was some trepidation as to the wife’s enthusiasm for such an expenditure. Nonetheless, the nostalgia aspect prevailed, the Moth was acquired and quickly secreted away in a partner’s barn. Mean while, the question persisted how I could practically and amicably bring the Moth out into the open.Then, Ann Matheson, President of the Antique and Classic Boat Society, came up with the perfect solution. "Isn’t there something your wife would really like?" she inquired. "Yes," was the answer. "A tennis bracelet." Albeit, we know not why since this wife is neither spectator or tennis participant. "Don’t try to figure it out," Ann replied. Moving right along, she next asked, "Does the boat have a name?" "No," I replied. "There is your answer," she said. While I tried to figure it out, she explained. "You name the boat Tennis Bracelet. Give it to your wife first, after she fusses and fumes and tells you that this one won’t fit around her arm, then you give her the real thing, at which point she embraces you and admits to herself that if the purchase of the boat was the excuse for the real ting, then it probably wasn’t such a bad idea."

The occasion of the 37^th wedding anniversary was selected for the presentation. The name "Tennis Bracelet" was appropriately inscribed on the boat, the real tennis bracelet was purchased and the family, including two daughters, two sons-in-law, four grandchildren and other friends and relatives were assembled for the presentation. It was as though Ann Matheson had a crystal ball. The presentation went off just as expected with wife proclaiming, "It wasn’t the type of tennis bracelet I expected, but then who ever heard of an eleven foot tennis bracelet?" Then, after the real thing was firmly affixed to her arm, she suggested that we take the boat down to the lake and launch it.

A maiden voyage ensued, much the same as that first trip began back in 1952. the only difference was that a four-year old grandson was added to the cramped quarters of the little Moth. The second major difference was that even after this boat was fully dried out, having spent nine months in a barn, it didn’t leak nearly as much as the first and there was little opportunity to use the antique Maxwell House coffee can which had specially acquired to be part of Tennis Bracelet’s equipment.

The best man, hearing of the presentation, came from Melbourne Beach to Tallahassee to inspect the sea worthiness of the craft and to ensure that the relationship in which he played a founding and vital role was still intact after 37 years. Not having seen a Moth in over 30 years, his first exclamation was, "My God! It is a Moth," whereupon he gave his blessings to both couple and boat.

Reminiscing during dinner that night turned to that first date and the mutual friend who was the first Moth’s owner. A surprised wife added, "And for forty years I thought that was your boat!" "You never gave me a chance to explain that it wasn’t," I added.

An interesting sidelight occurred; when the three of us – husband, wife and best man, prevailed upon a passerby to take a photo. After he generously took several, we inquired of his name. "I’m the local Catholic priest," he responded. We told him he had taken a picture of a rather interesting anniversary present. "Weddings and anniversaries are right up my alley," he responded with an Irish smile.